


Wolves Howl

by AyYouFiction



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Elfquest, Game of Thrones (TV), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3230786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyYouFiction/pseuds/AyYouFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The struggle between elves and humans has been a very violent, very bloody tale spanning thousands of years. You can't really blame the humans, having to defend what's theirs against the invaders. And you can't blame the elves for just trying to survive in this world they were stranded on, this world of Two Moons. *includes Everlark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue (pt 1)

**Author's Note:**

> This story will earn its E rating by containing violence, polyamory, multiple lovers at once or separately, references to rape, and other topics that may make some feel uncomfortable. Reader discretion is advised.
> 
> "Elfquest is the longest-running independent fantasy series, with more than 15 million comics, graphic novels and other publications in print."  
> So if you're curious, just head on over to their website: **elfquest.com** There you will find information as well as past series available to read. Also, there's a **[fan video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UwOhE5srDc)** that's beautifully made, but unfortunately a little misleading. Elfquest is not only about female elves.
> 
> I own nothing of the original Hunger Games content nor the original Elfquest content. Everything else is mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've reworked the first chapter to add more descriptions as well as included a second part of the prologue that gives a glimpse of where the other protagonist is at this point.
> 
> This story gives me the opportunity to play with two of my favorite couples (Everlark and Gendrya) from the perspective of my two favorite lead females (Arya and Katniss). It's a chance to explore their differences and similarities, and I get to do it in an Elfquest environment. Win, win, win.
> 
> Character names may have changed to fit their EQ environment. Their real names may pop up in unexpected places, but who the characters are should become clear over time through their histories and personalities. If you really want to know who a particular character is, just ask.
> 
> Two final warnings: Some characters may not be introduced until later in the story for their storyline to kick off. Patience is a virtue here. Also, this story is rated E for a reason.
> 
> All elements originating from the respective fandoms belong solely to their respective fandoms.

The days are getting warmer but there’s still a chill that winds its way into the _den_ , their small, round living quarters magically hallowed out in the massive tree they call home. Flame snuggles in closer to her younger brothers for the added warmth because pulling the furs will only lead to a struggle only leaving someone cocooned while the other two freeze. As wild as her baby brother is, she wouldn’t bet on it being her cocooned.  
  
Even as she drifts somewhere between wake and sleep, she’s amused by how well her baby brother’s named: Wildwind. Because that is what he is. They say the _wolf blood_ in all of them sings, but his howls. They say that if the wolf blood were a river, he fell in head first. Flame can’t say much about it because what they say about her isn’t far from it. They say that if Wildwind fell in, she wades in it hip-deep.  
  
Her other brother, Highbranch, barely has the wolf blood sing in him. Their mother used to say that he was all elf with his eyes always to the tips of the trees. It has never been just his eyes, though, which was always the source of their mother’s grief. Highbranch always seeks his namesake, no matter how high in the treetops he is, he always seeks that higher branch.  
  
Sensitive pointed ears pick up the rustling of something outside their den, so Flame opens her eyes and notices that the sun’s rays are long gone. It’s not quite dark, but the sun is definitely setting. The entire _holt_ will wake soon, as few as there are left, but someone must’ve woken early.  
  
The den is only large enough for her to sit upright in a kneeling position, and the opening is smaller than that, but it’s enough for its purpose: sleeping.  
  
Taking a peek outside, she doesn’t see anyone, so she crouches out for a better look. All of the other dens are quiet. Most of them are empty, their inhabitants killed moons ago, but the others house what's left of her tribe inside them.  
  
There’s no way she’s going back to sleep, so she squeezes out of the den completely and reaches for the nearest branch to make her jump for the ground. Highbranch can be far more graceful at it, but she’s an elf and can hold her own.  
  
It’s only now that she hears them, the steady drumbeats in the distance from the human village.  
  
“They started early in the day and haven’t stopped since.”  
  
Her cousin, Crow, is sitting on a fallen log not far from their _home tree_ , using a stone to sharpen his old troll sword. His eyes are focused on his task but the dark circles under them is a sign that he hasn’t slept all day with the rest of their tribe. Flame knows why, and she understands completely. Whenever the human drums sound all day and last into the night, it means ritual. And whenever there’s a ritual, there’s an elf held captive by the humans for sacrifice.  
  
It’s a fact that each and ever member of their tribe knows all too well because they’ve all lost loved ones to humans. They’ve all had someone die at that hands of those tall dumb brutes. “We have to gather, call everyone to see who’s missing.”  
  
Crow shakes his head and continues to sharpen his blade. “I checked every den. Everyone’s accounted for.”  
  
“That can’t be,” Flame argues, because it can’t. The humans have never held their long rituals without an elf in their midst.  
  
There are rustling sounds from the dens above them as the entire holt wakes. Soft whispers turn to normal tones and laughter as the members of their tribe work their way down to the ground for the evening.  
  
“Count for yourself,” her cousin tells her, not missing a stroke of the whetstone. There’s no mistaking the edge to his words or the bunched muscles at this shoulders. Even though he believes there’s no one missing, the drumbeats have him on edge all the same.  
  
Flame watches her brothers leave their den. Highbranch immediately climbs up to the top of the tree while Wildwind slips down to the ground. Their sister, Snowbird, emerges from the den she shares with her friends, Spark, Gentlemist, and Oak. They’ve shared a den together for almost an entire turn of the seasons now, ever since the slaughter of almost half their tribe at the hands of the humans.  
  
Who can blame them? _Denning_ alone can make an elf feel isolated, too alone and start to remember. Dwelling in the past is not The Way, that’s not living in the _Now of wolf-thought_. So they share a den, even though as far as Flame knows, none of them are _lifemates_ , not even _lovemates_. The four of them together is nothing more than comfort and warmth while sleeping so that they can stay in the Now.  
  
Besides, it’s no secret that Snowbird prefers the company of her friends than that of her siblings. “You're too embarrassing,” she says. “Too wild,” she complains. And it all makes Flame want to drop a hive of stingers on her every time.  
  
Oak, as strong as his name, stands at the bottom of their home tree holding his arms up and out to offer help to his female companions to climb down. His blond curls are haphazard from sleep, but soon they’ll smooth out into their normal wildness. Spark doesn’t accept his offer, opting instead to leap off one branch to another until her feet are firmly on the ground, but Gentlemist does accept his help, and Snowbird certainly does. It’s times like these that make Flame wonders if her sister’s too gentle for the forest. If the wolf blood that courses through their bodies were a river, Snowbird would be the one running and screaming from it.  
  
Eventually, everyone settles on the ground just as the wolves meander into the holt from their own dens. Elves greet their wolves, those bonded telepathically to them, as they do every night. It’s said that they can bond this way because of the ancient bloodline that connects elf to wolf, that connects elf to this World of Two Moons that they originally did not belong.  
  
How many times had Flame heard the story during the tribal howls? Of the ancient ones from far beyond this world and its two moons who were stranded. Their magic hampered by the heaviness of the world, hunted brutally by the humans, there was one who used what was left of her magic to shape herself into a wolf. Nymeria.  
  
She taught the others what to eat, how to hunt, how to live on this world. She taught them how to survive, but after so many years living in her wolf form, more turns than any elf can imagine, Nymeria had forgotten her people and forgotten that she too was an elf at her core. It wasn’t until she’d brought back her son, half wolf, half elf, that she remembered.  
  
She left him with the tribe to learn what it was like to be elf, and he did. He taught the tribe the finer points of survival on this world, and effectively becoming the first chief. He had children with the elves, who had children with other elves until this very day when no one in the tribe can claim they have no wolf blood in them because they all do. They are all children of Nymeria.  
  
Flame’s wolf, named after their ancestor, pads her way beside Flame with her tail flicking and her muscles tense. Their _wolf-friends_ know the dangers of the human drumbeats just as well as the elves. It doesn’t help that her wolf may have also sensed her own nervousness through the telepathic bond they share. “It’s okay, Nymeria,” Flame tries to calm her wolf, named after their ancestor, but how can she calm her when she can’t even calm herself?  
  
Crow’s wolf friend, Shadow, comes up to him and nuzzles at his back, but there’s no response other than his methodical sharpening of his blade.  
  
“They don’t do this unless they’ve captured one of us,” Flame sighs, reiterating what they both know to be true, even if no one is missing from their tribe.  
  
He finally looks up from his whetstone and blade. There’s a hard look in his eyes, harder than she’s ever seen. It bothers her because for her entire life she’s seen nothing but gentleness and kindness in Crow’s eyes. When her sister was cruel, when her brothers ignored her, when her parents eyes were hard with disappointment, his were always there to make her feel safe and loved.  
  
He was all she had left for support when her parents and older brother died at the hands of the humans. Now, his eyes are hard and there is a thirst for blood behind them.  
  
He rubs at the bridge of his nose, and his weariness surrounds him like a cloud. “We should scout the village. See what’s got them so worked up,” he says and a young voice from their side chimes in. “I want to go, too!”  
  
It’s Wildwind standing and pulling himself to his full height, trying to end his wrestling match with his wolf friend. Unfortunately, not having reached adulthood yet, his wolf, Shaggywolf, doesn’t seem to take the hint.  
  
✧Absolutely not!✧  
  
The thought is from Crow, telepathically _sent_ to Wildwind, meant only for Wildwind, but it’s so strong and emotionally charged that it bleeds into nearby minds. Flame winces along with her baby brother at it, and they notice that the eyes of the rest of the tribe are on them. Snowbird’s fingers are caught in her auburn hair, frozen midway as she was combing it through to style.  
  
Everyone knows Snowbird treasures the length and color of her hair, which is why Flame wants to cut it so badly.  
  
✧Is this about the human drums?✧ Snowbird asks, sending out her telepathic message for only Flame and Crow to receive while continuing to style her hair with her fingers.  
  
✧Yes,✧ Crow answers, but Flame sends her more. It’s nothing but feelings of dread and confusion as to what do do next. Snowbird nods and returns to the conversation she was having with the others because she is not chieftain, it is not for her to make decisions for the tribe. Truthfully, the right of chieftainship should go to her. Their father was chief, and when he and their eldest brother died, she was next in line, but that’s a responsibility that Snowbird doesn’t want. That, at least, she’s made clear enough.  
  
The next to become chief of their tribe is Flame, but she’d rather leave that mantle to her brooding cousin who loves to sit and watch and think about everything. Sitting on a thornbush seems like more fun than leading a tribe. How can that be fun if all you want to do is be free to run with the wolves and hunt and howl?  
  
Highbranch drops down from some limb above them and stays in place long enough for Longheat, his wolf friend, to greet him with a quick lick on the chin. After the wolf’s gesture, Highbranch strides up to Flame and Crow and states with the authority of a fully grown wolf rather than the pup he is, “I’m going with you.” There’s no mistaking it's not a request.  
  
Going into the village is the most dangerous thing they can do. Since all of the elves in their tribe are accounted for, going to the humans’ village is putting themselves in danger for more than likely no reason at all. They know they shouldn’t, but Crow and Flame are of the same mind that it’s still a good idea to find out what’s roused their enemy. Taking her little brothers is a different matter.  
  
✧It might be a good thing to have them around. More eyes,✧ she sends her thoughts to her cousin for only him to receive, and watches as he waves his hands and shakes his head in response, an emphatic no. Her little brothers' heads swivel from one to the other, watching Flame and Crow have the silent conversation about them. Wildwind’s growing impatient, but he knows one outburst would mean automatically being left behind.  
  
✧They’re too young; they’re only cubs,✧ is the thought that Crow sends back to her, and her reply to that is more of a feeling that a focused thought. It’s the concept of age and how by their tribe’s standards, all of them are considered cubs, too young to go near the human village. Essentially, all that’s left of their tribe are cubs, none considered adults yet, not even Crow.  
  
At first, he doesn’t have a response, but then when he does, he tries to appeal to her sentimentality. ✧They are all that’s left of your family,✧ he reminds her.  
  
It’s funny how the one person in their tribe who knows her the best could make such a misstep. Flame is a lot of things, but sentimental isn’t one of them. She misses her parents and her older brother, and all those lost to the humans, but the wolf blood sings in her. She lives in the Now, in the very moment where past and future are fleeting thoughts in comparison. They are her brothers, and she loves them very much, but she can’t and would never want to shield them from life. And unfortunately, living with the threat of humans is a part of their life.  
  
All of these thoughts are sent to him as unfocused as they are, but they are enough. Crow relents, giving her a slight nod that’s barely noticeable.  
  
Highbranch and Wildwind are still watching the two in their silent exchange, and it seems when Crow nods, they release a breath they might have been holding the whole time. Wildwind whoops while a relaxed smile spreads across Highbranch’s face.  
  
Crow releases a thought, open for everyone to receive: ✧The human drums sound. We have to see why.✧  
  
The four others that have been outside of the conversation the whole time are now looking with wide eyes. Snowbird’s eyes have the shine of threatening tears. If ever there was a sentimental elf in the family, she would be it as she considers the last of her family riding off towards the humans. Her wolf friend’s nose tickles at her side to get her attention, and Snowbird wraps her arm around her. “Maiden,” she cries into her wolf’s fur as Spark and Gentlemist try to console her.  
  
That’s the last thing Flame sees before her brothers, her cousin and their wolves race to their destination. Nymeria is only moments behind them.  
  
Flame sprints to keep pace with Nymeria before gripping a handful of fur at the back of her wolf’s neck and slipping on to her back. The wolf’s only been riding size since the last newgreen and it took almost three moons to get the hang of it, but they've developed a smoother routine, now.  
  
Her cousin hops onto his wolf with practiced grace, no doubt the kind that can only come from a few more seasons of experience.  
  
Her brothers are different, though. Their wolves aren’t old enough to ride, not that they need them for it. Already at the very top of the trees is Highbranch, leaping from one limb to the next with the same speed as Longheat races across the ground below.  
  
Ahead of her, Wildwind runs alongside Shaggywolf, out-pacing all others easily and wolf and elf are the first at the edge of the human village. Flame focuses her mind to telepathically send him a thought, a frantic warning for him not to enter the village without them. When she feels the same thought at the same time from Highbranch and Crow, she almost laughs. They all know her baby brother too well.  
  
What they receive back from the youngest elf among them is trailed with annoyance, but thankfully he makes it clear that he won’t do anything until the rest catch up with him. There’s only truth in sending thoughts, so Flame breathes a sigh of relief, that is, until they reach the boundary of the village.  
  
There’s a tall stone wall the humans erected during the days of Flame's father’s childhood nearly Three hundred turns ago, protecting them from elves and other humans. It spans higher than any adult human which means that it’s over double the height of the tallest elf. Crouched on the balls of their feet are human guards at all four corners of the wall, their keen eyes watching and their sharp spears ready to pierce elven flesh.  
  
There’s no way for them to attack the humans dead on—it’s how they’d lost half their tribe over a turn ago—so they lay on their bellies under the dense foliage of bushes nearby to discuss how to sneak inside. Elves have always had this advantage, the ability for silent conversation as they share their thoughts freely and quietly.  
  
Flame suggests rushing at them, using surprise as a weapon. Crow suggests waiting for the darkest part of night and try to scale the walls. Highbranch suggests using the wolves as a diversion as they sneak inside. They can’t agree on one, but Flame notices that there’s one elf who’s remained silent throughout their mental conversation, so she sends her baby brother an encouraging thought, ✧Have any ideas? Come on and share.✧  
  
She expects that he lacks the self confidence to add to the conversation, but she doesn’t expect him to suggest the unthinkable. ✧What about the troll caverns?✧  
  
There’s something else layered with his thought, a fear of having something exposed along with it.  
  
✧What is it you’re not telling me?✧ she asks him and doesn’t get an answer right away. It’s been so long since she’d contributed to the conversation with Highbranch and Crow that they’re looking at her and Wildwind with curiosity, recognizing another conversation going on when they see it.  
  
Wildwind plucks a leaf from the bush mindlessly, trying to avoid looking at them or answering, but she won’t let him, repeating her thought.  
  
✧I’ve been exploring the caverns for almost a turn of the seasons. I know them like the back of my hand,✧ he sends to her, and all of the warnings and rules taught to her since she was a cub at her mother's breast floods Flame's mind that instant. Elves and trolls had a tentative friendship over the years, held only by the desire to trade and the honor of two leaders that have died since. Less friendly trolls would sooner gut an elf on sight than offer a trade.  
  
When the trolls left, tired of their own struggles against the quickly spreading humans, all elves were told not to go into the abandoned caverns for fear of troll stragglers. And Wildwind’s been going down into them for an entire turn of the seasons? It seems her brother didn’t feel the need to heed their father’s wishes once he died. Flame knows she should be angry with him for disrespecting their father that way, but she also reminds herself that her brother has the wolf blood howling in his ear, screaming of how the past has passed, and the rules of a dead chief no longer apply when there's new territory to explore.  
  
The problem is that they don’t have a chief anymore. With Crow refusing to accept the responsibility and Snowbird would more than likely crumble under the weight of it, that leaves Flame, but she doesn’t even know who she is. How can she lead everyone else until she does?  
  
She relays Wildwind’s thought to the others, of his suggestion to go through the mines and watches as her cousina and younger brother’s faces twist with disapproval. Wildwind shrinks from their eyes on him but she sends him a quick thought of support and encouragement. He’s more wolf than elf and the result was a foolish act, but perhaps they will benefit from it, tonight.  
  
✧Lead us, then,✧ Crow sends openly, but there’s no mistaking the anger the thought is wrapped in.  
  
Wildwind swallows hard and crawls back from the bushes with the others following him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wolf blood = descended from wolves, they often talk about the wolf blood in them, the blood that makes them act more like wolf than elf  
> home tree = the large tree hollowed out with living spaces.   
> holt = the area surrounding the home tree  
> den = the hollowed out living spaces  
> denning = sharing a den. most times by family or couples. sometimes by friends.  
> lifemates = those married to each other. can also include more than 2 elves  
> lovemates = lovers  
> now of wolf-thought = wolves don't dwell in the past or future and that's how their tribe lives  
> wolf-friends = those wolves bonded to the elves.
> 
> If any of you have more questions, feel free to ask in comments or PM me over at FF.net


	2. Prologue (pt 2)

Her hut is quiet while her mother and sister continue to sleep; her little sister’s body curls against her mother in their bed pit. There’s a slight chill to the otherwise tropical air, so Katniss covers her little shoulders with the gauzy sheet before lifting herself from the edge of the bed.  
  
The sun hasn’t begun to filter through the cloud cover by the time she slides the beaded door to the side and steps out of their family’s hut. There are already some in the village awake and tending the gardens of the few green edibles that can grow under the ever clouded sky. That’s why Katniss hunts with her friend Gale. They’re not afraid to venture outside of their safe haven, their little village nestled inside the valley with the ever-present swaths of clouds separating them from the full shine of the sun.  
  
Except for the two of them, no one still alive has ever seen the sun shine bright against their skin, and Katniss pities them for that. Each and every one of them is too afraid of the stories passed down from generation to generation. How there are humans out there ready to kill them just for existing. When the founding elves of the village, their ancestors, first established themselves in the valley, they meant for it to be a haven. It was the one place where humans and other dangers couldn’t touch their families.  
  
What the other dangers out there are continues to be a mystery to her, but when it comes to humans, their plan worked. Katniss is the only one of her village to have ever seen a human at all, but that’s because she breaks the one most important rule her ancestors had set down for them: no leaving the village.  
  
That rule is the reason why those from her village are like scared little ravvits when it comes to the very mention of leaving their home. “Humans!” they cry. “What about the other dangers!” they whine while cowering. Not one of them can list any other danger, but they fear it down to their bones all the same.  
  
It may be that Katniss and Gale don’t have this same fear because their fathers weren’t born and bred in the valley. The way her mother tells it, Katniss’s father and his friend warily approached the village. They were hurt and mistrustful of the elves, and it took some convincing for either one to allow her to lay her healing hands on them. Her father felt so good after the healing that he sang while resting and waiting for his friend to be healed, and her mother knew she had fallen for the stranger the moment she'd heard the beautiful sounds he could make.  
  
Katniss's father had taken her out of the village to hunt when she was young, eager to share the wonders of the woods with her. Her mother protested, argued the dangers even though she couldn’t name any other than the humans. Fortunately, her father was adamant. It was the same for her father’s friend and his son, Gale.  
  
The villagers wave to Katniss as she walks by. They may not agree with her going against their ancestors’ wishes by leaving the valley, but the promise of fresh meat helps them forget that little indiscretion.  
  
The valley can’t grow anything but a handful of vegetables. It’s always been enough to sustain them, but just barely. Over time, the body weakens which is why those ancestors didn’t survive. Elves are immortal. With proper food and water and without injury, they can live forever. The problem is that they didn’t have proper food until Katniss’s father came, and with him came hunting and fresh meat. Now that her and Gale’s fathers are dead, it’s up to them to supply the entire village.  
  
Katniss follows the base of the northern mountain and enters the cave hidden behind vines and saplings. At the end of it is a burrow dug out so many years ago and re-dug so many times since. It was the way her father and his friend had managed to find the hidden village. They were hiding—her father refused to ever tell them from what—and found a gopher hole. It gave them the idea to dig their own hole, someplace safe to hide and recuperate. What they didn’t expect to find was the cave. Even more, a village of elves just beyond the cave.  
  
She slides her body through the burrow, underneath the stone wall separating the valley from outside, and pulls herself out. After shaking and patting some of the dirt off, she continues on to where the old log lays. The moss grows thick on it because it’s been fallen for years, but the hollow serves as a nice storage for her bow and arrows. It’s where her father used to leave his hunting things when she was small.  
  
Sometimes she wishes she could take her things with her back home. Work on new bows and arrows there, but the bow is too wide for the burrow and the arrows don’t curve enough. And then there is the one rule her father and his friend had set for them: never widen the burrow. It was clear that they had their own fears when it came to all things outside of the valley, even if she and Gale had no idea what they were.  
  
Not far from the tree hollow, there’s a sound that would seem a natural part of the woods to anyone else, but Katniss knows Gale’s signal well. Sure enough, he’s up in the tree, waving for her to stop which she does immediately. She perks up her ears, but hears nothing, so she takes one more step and the crunch underneath her foot echos around her. The next sound is a rustling and more crunching along the woodland floor until she can see something breaking through the low-lying brush.  
  
It’s coming towards her at an incredible speed. Her first instinct is to reach for her bow, even though she knows she doesn’t have enough time to shoot her first arrow. There are loud, angry sounds from whatever animal it is, and just as it breaks through the small clearing, something slips under her arms and around her chest, and instantly, the ground is no longer at her feet. They dangle above the beast with its snout and tusks as it continues to charge at an intruder that now hovers above it instead of in front of it.  
  
Gale’s grip is firm as he floats in the air, but he’s struggling. She can hear his labored breathing and his body shaking with the effort. Floating has always come easily to him, but the added weight of her tests the limits of his ability. Once she’s back on the ground and he’s standing beside her, he wipes his forehead and takes a deep breath.  
  
Katniss, however, doesn’t waste time. “Did you see that great big snorting thing!” she says, not bothering to look at her hunting companion because she’s too busy readying her bow with an arrow. “That beast can feed the village for a few days!”  
  
Usually as ready for the hunt as much as Katniss, he doesn’t move, now. And when she leaps into a run, he catches her arm and pulls her body close to his. His quick action along with being so close startles her silent. Gray eyes meet gray eyes and he hopes, really hopes, but nothing.  
  
“Are you still on that old thing?” she sighs and lets out a noise to convey exactly how annoyed she is. They’re wasting precious time; the beast could be halfway across the woods by now. “We’re not going to _recognize_ because I don’t want to. I don’t want a _soulmate_ invading my mind and I certainly don’t want a child. So stop with your silly fever dreams and let’s go get that large sack of meat.”  
  
Gale lowers his eyes to the ground. Katniss has already disappeared beyond the clearing so he reaches for his spear that was hidden behind a tree and follows sullenly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soulmate, recognize = the meanings will be address in the next chapter as well as future chapters.


	3. Into the Village

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Elfquest is the longest-running independent fantasy series, with more than 15 million comics, graphic novels and other publications in print." So if you're curious, just head on over to their website: elfquest.com There you will find information as well as past series available to read.

As the four elves make their way down the winding troll caverns, what they see amazes and repulses them, not unlike the creatures who had built them. Some walls are riddled with colorful stones that shimmer and shine at the slightest bit of light making the entire path sparkle in color. And then there are other tunnels where the walls ooze something they carefully try to avoid touching.

The way they expertly navigate through the corners and crannies of the chiseled tunnels by Wildwind’s lead makes it abundantly clear he knows them well. Too well. It means he’d spent more time in them than Flame or Crow had guessed, and although they aren’t happy with him for it, there's no denying that there's a certain amount of relief in knowing they won’t get lost.

Still, there’s always the possibility of stragglers—those trolls who chose to stay and scavenge over the dead carcass of the once far-reaching underground settlement—and the wary four have their senses heightened for any sign of danger. The entire time, Flame’s hand rests on the pommel of her sword. Nymeria may have her teeth and claws, but she has her sword, Needle, for any creatures with an itch to attack, trolls below or the humans above.

Even Wildwind’s shoulders are tense and his eyes alert. As familiar as he is with these caverns, he doesn’t let his guard down for a moment which is some comfort for Crow and Flame that he at least does understand the dangers in the caverns even if he's been reckless for coming down into them.

The wolves don’t seem as uncomfortable, though. Flame wonders if it’s because they made their collective den, their home, in the ground not unlike the trolls. Their dens are much smaller, but she wonders if there’s a sense of security that comes from being hidden away from the world above.

After a while, the three start to wonder if Wildwind actually knows his way to the humans’ village before he points to a small, round compartment at the end of one of the tunnels. ✧There,✧ he sends his thought to the group and they rush ahead with rejuvenated speed.

There's a hatch at the top of the compartment, and Crow insists that he should be the first to check it, to see if it's clear for them to enter the village. No one argues because the thoughts sent from him are laced with an anger none of them have ever felt from their cousin’s mind before. It scares all three into acquiescence.

He climbs the notches of stone and twists the lock on the hatch until it clicks, and then he opens it slowly. What he sees is shared with the rest telepathically: branches surrounding the hatch door, and beyond that, humans milling about unaware that the hatch even exists. The clever trolls built their doorway under a thicket of evergreen shrubs that grow very sweet berries. Of course the humans would never remove it inside their little village, and so long as the trolls didn’t use the door during berry picking season, the humans were none the wiser.

Looking around, he notices what can only be the humans' altar with three elven bodies strapped to sacrificial stones. One is limp and clearly its spirit has long fled, but the chests of the other two still moved with life, although one more than the other.

✧What do we do?✧ Wildwind shares his thought, and Highbranch answeres with the images of their wolves terrorizing the humans, distracting them, with the telepathic guidance of two elves while the other two unbins the two remaining captives. It’s unanimously agreed that it’s the best idea they could have with only four elves and four wolves against an entire human village in such a short amount of time.

The wolves are lifted up and out of the hatch. They’re already at the side of the village where the _sun-goes-down_ before the humans even know that they’re there. Highbranch and Wildwind are the ones to stay behind. Crow insisted that Wildwind not go deeper into the village, but to stay behind as the greater eyes for the wolves to wreak the most havoc while Flame and Crow slip out of the hatch and towards the altar.

The shaman and his acolytes guard their offerings to their gods, but their eyes are on the commotion at the other end of the walled village. As light-footed as elves tend to be, it’s not hard for them to sneak past the humans and behind the stones. Crow slices through the twine that binds the first elf and is able to catch her before she hits the ground, but when Flame frees the second elf, his dead weight hits the ground hard, alerting the humans nearby.

✧Shadow!✧ Crow calls to his wolf through their mental bond and Flame does the same with Nymeria as she tries to pull her elf up.

“It’s no use,” Crow’s elf says weakly in his arms. “I heard his last breath a heartbeat before you reached us.”

✧Leave him,✧ Crow tells Flame just as their wolves reach them. Crow slides his elf over Shadow and hops on behind at the same time Flame grabs Nymeria to do the same. The wolves are charging through the village with spears raining down around them, but they seem to know exactly where to move to dodge them. It’s almost certainly the help of Highbranch and Wildwind.

The wolves plow through the berry bushes and jump into the hatch door opened wide, landing on all fours at the bottom before the hatch slams shut and locks above them.

The four wolves and now five elves can hear the humans pounding on the metal hatch, but there’s no way they’ll ever get it. Wood can never damage troll metal.

Able to catch their breath, they all take a good look at the only elf they were able to rescue. There's sweat and blood coating her skin, causing her fiery red hair to cling in tendrils against it. There are several gashes covering her exposed body and bruises underneath the areas covered by her tattered cloths. The worst was at her wrists and ankles. They couldn't wake her, but then Highbranch suggests through sending his thought that it might be better for her to remain unconscious for the ride back.

They retrace their steps through the caverns and hoped they get back to the holt before her spirit leaves her body.

* * *

The other four of their tribe are anxiously awaiting their return, no doubt having heard the human drums stop and knowing that Flame, Crow and the rest had something to do with it. When they return with another elf, anxiety is tamped down in favor of curiosity as each tries to get a better look, all of them except Gentlemist.

The elf shies away from the gathering, but it’s Crow who insists that she lay hands on the elf. “You have to heal her,” he says to the elf even as she shakes her head and holds her arms close to her body.

They all know why she’s like this. As the only healer of their tribe, the only one who can magically heal wounds, it’s her duty to use her abilities as the tribe needs, but they don’t typically ask her to do it. Broken bones and deep cuts are remedied instead of healed because Gentlemist hasn’t healed a thing since the last time she attempted to heal someone, an attempt that never should have happened.

Trying to fend off humans, Gentlemist’s mother’s head and body were severed gruesomely. Gentlemist was the first to find her. So young, desperate to have her mother back, and with no one to stop her, she tried to rejoin head to body. They say the effort damaged mind, body, and soul.

This was all before Flame was even born, and that was the last time Gentlemist had ever used her magic. The poor elf hadn’t been the same since, always clinging to her sister, always hiding from what scares her instead of facing it head on.

But this isn’t a broken bone or scrape. An elf’s life is in danger, and Crow won’t take no for an answer.

Even as she tries to hide her face in her sister’s shoulder and cries hysterically, Crow won’t relent. Even as she takes those slow steps away from Spark and towards the unknown elf, trembling like a newborn fawn, he keeps sending her a steady stream of thoughts insisting she do this.

Gentlemist lowers herself to the ground with the strange elf and, with the support of her sister behind her, she closes her eyes before placing her palms together. They could almost hear the crackle of power between them that only grows deeper in sound with her concentration. Somewhere in the trance of magic, the tension in Gentlemist’s body disappears. She's fighting death like the _she-wolf_ she is that's been hidden behind years of pain and fear.

The unknown elf shifts and moans, her face twisting at Gentlemist’s touch until the healer pulls herself away, falling back onto the ground. Spark, Snowbird, and Oak are there to take care of her, but she lifts herself up enough to tell Crow that she’s healed all she could.

It isn’t much. The gashes inflicted by the humans are still there, but they aren't bleeding anymore and Flame thinks that most of the healing must have been on the inside rather than the outside.

Flame helps Crow lift and carry the elf into one of the empty dens and settles her into the extra furs all of the elves in the tribe could gather. The stranger wakes, barely, with her eyes rolling everywhere as though she can’t focus on any particular thing for more than a heartbeat until the newgreen eyes settle on Crow. They widen at him and her eyes flutter close just after she breathes a word, no, a name: “Jahn.”

Crow’s back is still towards Flame who's crouched at the opening of the den, and she watches him for movement, any reaction. She won’t do anything until he does because the weight of what just happened is too much.

The name the elf uttered was a _soulname_ , Crow's soulname. It's the one defense each elf has for privacy in a group of telepaths. When there are so many to share your thoughts with, so many to enter your mind, there has to be a way to shut them out from the deepest part of your being. Their tribe developed soulnames for that very reason, as the key to a lock in the deepest recesses of the mind.

Close family, friends, and lovers sometimes share them as a sign of an utmost closeness and trust.

And then there are the instances when this key is telepathically handed to another without warning or consent. It’s what some elves dread, some fear, and some wait their whole lives for. It means to be laid bare to the other, no secrets, nothing but who the they are at their very core. Still, all of that is but the byproduct of its true purpose: to trigger the primal drive to mate. When this happens, they call it…

“ _Recognition_ ,” Crow breathes, finally breaking the silence but just barely.

It’s the only way elves reproduce, and there’s no doubt what the elf uttered before she slipped back into unconsciousness was his soulname. Flame has known it for most of her life, just as he’s known hers because he's the only person in the world she trusts with such a thing. Flame still doesn’t know her two brothers’ or sister’s soulnames, though, because they don't have that closeness and trust.

“Her name is Ygritte,” he says reverently. "It's not a soulname. I don't think she has one. I think that's her name."

Flame stares at the strange elf. It's a wonder to know other elves exist out there in the world, but that they don't have soulnames? "How can she not have a soulname?" she asks her cousin. Of course he would know, because in that moment when eyes met eyes, everything was open to the other. Nothing was held back. "I don't know. That's all I got while she was awake."

“That’s odd,” Flame says, but everything about this elf is odd. Everyone from their tribe has a ruddy complexion with either brown, auburn or blond hair, but this elf is as pale as snow with fire-red hair. As Flame stares at her cousin and his soulmate, she realizes that there must be another tribe and wonders what they’re like. She wonders if they are friendly. She hopes for Crow’s sake, that they are because he’s about to share blood with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Elfquest, recognition is a very complex topic thanks to several decades of published stories molding and shaping its meaning as well as years of fan speculation.
> 
> The gist is that elves may "recognize" each other when their eyes meet. Their minds open up to each other on a very basic level and the imperative to reproduce begins. These pairs are called soulmates. This doesn't necessarily mean that the two elves are perfect for each other, but rather that they are more favorable for creating a strong, healthy child. Some groups of elves try to have children without it, but most won't because the children born from recognition are considered to be stronger than those born without it.
> 
> sun-goes-down = west (at least to us)


End file.
